


Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Monsters

by Absolutely_Corrupted



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Family Drama, Gen, Self-Insert, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 02:02:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8825917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Absolutely_Corrupted/pseuds/Absolutely_Corrupted
Summary: Trauma, especially psychological trauma, can wreak considerable damage. Side-effects like flashbacks, emotional instability, and depression aren’t at all uncommon.Following my mother’s brutal murder, I had one other reaction – one rather less anticipated. The result? Sudden and complete recollection of my previous incarnation....It's really too bad everything I remember about this world has already come to pass.





	1. Chapter 1

**1:08am – October 11 th, 2009 **

**Windom, Minnesota | Addison**

 

 _Is this real?_ I stare at my reflection in the mirror, looking for anything that might show me otherwise. Nothing stands out. I look exactly the same as I did a week ago. Hell, I look the same as I did a lifetime ago.

I’m out of ideas. I’ve tried pinching myself, slapping my cheeks, and holding my breath – nothing changes. This is real.

 _Mom is dead._ The realization washes over me, draining me of whatever energy I’d had left. _She’s dead._ My knees buckle and only my white-knuckled grip on the sink keeps me from sinking to the floor. Even an extra lifetime’s worth of memories can’t distract me from this brutal truth.

A pressure builds behind my eyes and I can tell I’m about to have some sort of breakdown. I’m just about to give in to the feeling when a knock sounds, startling me out of it. “Addison? You okay in there?” It’s the female police officer from before, Francine-something.

“I’m fine,” I call through the door, voice cracking. “I’ll just be a minute.”

“Okay, just checking. Let me know if you need anything.”

 _A sedative would be nice right about now._ The thought comes unbidden and I frown at my reflection. _No, Addie. No drugs, no alcohol – you know what that does to people like you._

I quickly wash my hands, then my face for good measure. All too soon I’m done patting myself dry, left with no other option than to leave the relative safety of the Porter's tiny bathroom.

“Feel any better?” My escort is leaning against the wall just outside the door, reading something on her phone. I shrug in response and she just nods before tucking her phone away and leading me back to the kitchen. We take our seats at the table with her middle-aged partner. Francine does all the talking. She gets my full name, my age, the school I attend, and all sorts of random, irrelevant information.

For my part, I answer robotically, feeling myself disassociate more the closer we get to talking about the actual attack. By the end, I’m actually a little uncertain if I’ve answered her at all. Still, she and her partner get up to go – assuring me that their fellow officers will be stationed on the street outside. They leave me in the care of my neighbors.

Liam Porter stays in the living room with his brother Chris, watching the doors and windows with his shotgun in his lap. His wife, Becky, gives me clothes to sleep in and helps me get ready for bed. She tells me to wake them if I need anything and begs me to try to rest. I just nod at her, unable to speak.

Sparing me one last worried look, she disappears down the hall.

To my surprise, sleep finds me easily. Not so surprisingly, I’m plagued with strange and uncomfortable dreams. I wake up gasping a grand total of six times, finally giving up altogether when the sky outside begins to lighten. _Finally._

My relief is short-lived. Unbidden, memories from the night before begin to surface.

_CRACK! The sound of splintering wood heralds the destruction of my bedroom door. My mom and I grip each other’s hands and cower from the two figures responsible._

_“Hello ladies.” The hulking man in the doorway is smiling from beneath his matted hair while his companion glares over his shoulder. “Do you feel like dying?”_

_“St-Stay back!” My mother pushes me behind her and glares at the intruders. “We’ve already called the cops. They’ll arrest you if you don’t leave now!”_

_“Aw. Y’hear that? She thinks a couple of cops will scare us off.” The man laughs heartily and grins at my mom. “Trust me, we’re out of their league.” He glances back at his companion, suddenly all business. “I’ll get Winchester’s bitch. You can have his spawn.”_

_Without another word he lunges, knocking my mom to the floor. I shriek and take an aborted step towards her before the second man draws my attention. He’s smiling – no,_ beaming – _at me. Unlike the other one, he doesn’t rush me. I chuck something at his head that he easily sidesteps. He’s moving slowly, purposefully. “I think I’ll start with your breasts,” he says conversationally. “They’re my favorite. All that fatty tissue… Mm.” He continues to approach even as I scramble backwards over my bed. “You know, I haven’t eaten live flesh in_ years _,” he confides. “Too afraid that damn hunter would hunt me down like he did my family.”_

_At some point during his drawn-out approach my mother started shouting and screaming, but I can’t tell what she’s saying; I’m too preoccupied with the immediate threat this cannibal poses. He’s made it around the bed now and he’s still speaking. “-have to hold back any more. Eating you will both satisfy my hunger and provide the perfect opportunity to kill Winchester once and for all.”_

_I’ve backed into the ironing board and have nowhere else to go. The freak in front of me is too close for comfort, only an arm’s length away. He reaches out with a grimy hand and I lose my cool, turning away and grabbing the first thing I see–_

“Addie!”

I’m pulled from the memory with an aborted scream lodged in my throat.

Gentle hands pull my fingers away from where they’re digging into my upper arms. “Shh! Addie, it’s alright! You’re okay!”

“…Becky?” My voice is raspy and low. I look up to find my kindly neighbor worriedly checking me over. Suddenly, my confusion clears as I remember that I’m using her guest bedroom after the events of the night before.

“Oh sweetie,” she sighs. “Why don’t you take a hot shower? I’ll bring you some clothes to change into.”

“Okay,” I whisper, feeling moisture gather in my eyes. I’m so _relieved_ that she doesn’t feel the need to ask if I'm okay. I’m not okay – I might not _ever_ be okay.

Becky leads me to the bathroom and starts the water. Then she helps me undress before all but pushing me under the spray. “Wash up,” she orders. “I’ll put your clothes on the counter.”

I mumble something affirmative and lose myself in the sensation of hot water pounding against my back. It’s mind-numbing and very, very welcome. I go through the motions of cleaning up, not really paying attention to the actions (muscle memory is a wonderful thing).

The peace doesn’t last.

Inevitably, my thoughts return to last night, though this time at least I’m not sucked into a flashback. Instead, my mind focuses on the sounds, on everything I’d heard and said. It’s still awful, but the lack of immersion in the memory means my mind is capable of making associations with other, older memories… Memories I have no idea what to make of.

They’d been confusing enough in the aftermath of the attack, but what they’re telling me now makes absolutely no sense. Why is it that I suddenly recall an entirely different lifetime? And why do my thoughts keep circling back to the John Winchester in that silly TV show? Surely it’s just a coincidence that my biological dad shares a name with a fictional character from my first life!

…They’d called him a _hunter_ , though.

“No,” I say aloud. “It can’t be real. I’m just delusional with grief.” It’s a good explanation; it makes sense. Unfortunately, I can’t bring myself to accept it. Things start adding up.

One, my name is Addison Milligan – which isn’t too far off _Adam_ Milligan. Two, my biological father’s name is John Winchester and he sometimes drives a Chevy Impala. Three, my mom was killed by a freakishly strong guy who ate people and said he had a grudge against _my_ family for hunting down _his_ family.

Other than my gender and the slight name change, everything matches a little too well.

 _Shit._ I press my forehead against the cool tiles to my right and try to lose myself in the physical sensations of the shower. It helps me calm down enough to consider what this means.

I’m still in danger, obviously. One of those things is still after me and if it _is_ some kind of monster there’s no way the police will be able to help me. I need to find a way to hide from it or kill it. In order to do that, though, I’ll need help.

 _Who?_ My mom’s parents have been dead for years and I don’t have any other family. Well, I have the number John left in case of an emergency, but if what I remember from the show is true, he’s already dead.

Speaking of, I don’t even know which part of the show I’ve landed in. In my past life, I’d only ever fully and chronologically watched the first two seasons. After that I’d only caught a few episodes here and there. I hadn’t watched them in order and I’d certainly never made it past season four. In fact, I’m not even sure which season Adam shows up in! Is it season three? Four? Has Dean already gone to Hell? Or does he still have some time before the hellhounds come?

 _Damn._ All I know for sure is that my canon counterpart was killed by the very same monsters that attacked me and my mom. It’s not exactly a comforting thought.

Of course, there’s always the chance that my gut instinct is wrong and the whole past-life-with-a-show-about-the-world-I’m-currently-living-in thing is a delusion. I doubt it, but I can’t discard the possibility.

I need some way to know for sure – _but how?_

The question hangs over me and I spend more time than I need to rinsing off. I close my eyes and try to come up with a solution, but it’s only once I’ve run out of hot water that an idea strikes.

I shut off the water and curse my obtuseness. It’s _obvious._ In the show, the imposters called John’s number – the one they stole from Adam – and got the Winchester brothers instead. All I have to do is call that same number and _BAM!_ I’ve got two experienced hunters to get me out of this mess.

It’s practically foolproof. Even if I’m wrong and the Supernatural stuff is all in my head, all I have to do is call the number. If John answers and I find out I’m not in a damned TV show, I’ll still have someone who can help me.

Relieved to finally have something to _do_ , I dress in the clothes Becky left out for me and hurry downstairs.

I need to find a phone.

* * *

**Gas Station off of I-70 in Pennsylvania | Dean**

 

_Briiinng. Briiinng. Briii-_

Dean flips the old phone open and presses it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Oh thank god,” the voice on the other end breathes. “Please, John, I need help – they got my mom and I think the one that escaped is still after me! The police have no idea who they are and I-”

“Woah,” Dean cuts the girl off. “Slow down a second. Who are you and how do you know John?”

There’s a pause, then- “Damn it!” She curses. Dean hears a muffled noise (a sob?) on the other end of the line. “Is-” she clears her throat. “Is he around? Can you get ahold of him? It’s an emergency.” She doesn’t wait for an answer. “I’m in some serious trouble – tell him it’s Addison Milligan. He’ll want to know.”

Dean blinks a little in surprise. “Sorry to be the one to tell you this, but John’s dead. Has been for over two years.”

“Hey, isn’t that Dad’s old phone?” Sam asks, having just walked over with a bag of groceries.

“Shh!” Gesturing his brother closer and pressing the button to turn the speaker on, he waits for her answer.

“…He’s dead?”

“Yeah,” he answers cautiously.

 _“Fuck.”_ The expletive is hissed with all sorts of feeling.

Dean exchanges a look with his brother. Their dad wouldn’t have given his number without a damn good reason. “Look, give us your name and someplace to meet. My partner and I will try to help.”


	2. Chapter 2

**8:42am – Oct. 12 th, 2009**

**Sully’s Diner | Addison**

“Addison?” Sam Winchester’s voice interrupts my staring contest with the faded tablecloth. “Can you tell us what happened?” It’s the second time he’s asked.

I blink rapidly and refocus my attention on the man. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve been out of it since-” I falter, unable to get the words out. Luckily, the brothers across from me seem willing to wait. “Since she died,” I manage finally.

Sam’s frowning sympathetically and Dean is just plain frowning. Somehow, it’s the second expression that firms my resolve. The story comes tumbling out. “It was late. Ten, maybe eleven. I’d just gotten home for fall break. My mom she-” my voice cracks, “She was so _excited_ to have me home. She’d even taken off work so we could hang out.” I glare down at my hands. “…We never got the chance.”

_Facts, Addie. Stick to facts._

“Anyway, I was still unpacking and my mom was getting ready for bed. I didn’t notice anything, but apparently my mom heard footsteps. She came into my room, locked the door, and told me to call the police.

“She thought we were being robbed.” I don’t bother to hide the bitterness in my tone. “I was on the phone with the operator when they finally broke down the door. They said they’d come to kill us. I was frozen, but my mom, she moved in front of me with her arms spread wide. Told them to get out and that the cops were on their way. They _laughed,_ ” I confess shakily. “Like they didn’t even care.”

The men across from me stay silent and I continue on in a stronger, flatter voice. “One went straight for my mom – wrestled her to the ground between one blink and the next. The other one came for me.”

Dean speaks for the first time since my arrival. “How’d you get away?”.

I shrug. “I threw something at him. My phone, maybe. I don’t really remember. All I know is that it didn’t work. He started talking, telling me what he was going to do to me, why he was doing it, and how he was going to _eat_ us.” A slight shudder runs through me before total apathy finally takes over. I embrace it. “I panicked.” My voice is suddenly eerily calm and Sam looks taken aback; Dean’s expression is still unreadable. “I grabbed the nearest thing and smashed it into his head when he tried to touch me.

“It was a clothes iron, still burning hot – I’d been using it as I unpacked my suitcase and put away clothes,” I explain, settling my gaze somewhere in the distance. “The first few hits didn’t really do much,” I admit. “It was weird, like he had really thick skin. Still, I didn’t have any other ideas, so I hit him again and again and _again_ until he finally stopped moving. There was _so much blood_.” My hands twitch at the memory and the two men across from me flinch in response. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sam assures, looking a bit shaken. “What happened next?”

“That’s when my mom stopped screaming. She just-” I pause, start over. “The whole time, she’d been screaming and crying, trying to fight off that _thing._ And then suddenly, she stopped. That was when her attacker noticed what I’d done.” Enraged didn’t even begin to describe how he’d looked then, standing over my mother’s body. “He chased me – threw my bed clear across the room just because it was in his way… That’s when my neighbor arrived with his shotgun. He’d heard the noise through my open window and ran right over with his brother. The bullets didn’t seem to slow him down any, but he jumped out the window and escaped instead of fighting us all off.”

The silence stretches.

“So how’d you know to call John?” Sam asks eventually. “Why not trust the police to help you?”

I know he’s just feeling me out, trying to get more information, but the careful way he says it irks me. The apathy I’ve been feeling is abruptly replaced with barely restrained anger. “I’d have gladly left it to the police, if the creatures attacking hadn’t been flesh-eating monsters looking for revenge against John Winchester the _Hunter_.”

Sam’s mouth drops open. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh.’” I repeat sarcastically.

“Wait a minute,” Dean narrows his eyes at me. “Why the hell would someone go after you and your mom to get revenge on John Winchester?”

I fight to keep the surprise off my face. ‘ _Did I really not mention…?_ ’ I think back to the frantic phone call I made. I’d been pretty fucked up, both from my mother’s death and the looming existential crisis. I remember begging for help, mentioning my mother, and giving my location… _‘Guess not,’_ I realize. _‘They came because I said I was in danger – not because I’m supposedly their half-sister.’_

Now that I know it’s an option, the idea of keeping everything under wraps appeals to me. This world may have been a show in my past life, but it’s real now. I don’t want to die again. Hell, I’m already supposed to be dead! The creatures were supposed to kill me and my mom _both_ , then trick the brothers into coming out. Keeping my distance is really the only way I’m going to survive long enough to hit my twenties.

Still, I don’t particularly want to lie. “He and my mom had an on-and-off sort of relationship,” I say truthfully, praying that it doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass. I suppose I could say it was an unintentional omission, if it comes down to it. I only know they’re John Winchester’s sons thanks to my messed up memories. Without that knowledge, I really might have left that information out – it was a touchy subject to get into with two strangers.

There’s a startled pause after my revelation, then- “Bullshit!” Dean hisses. “I don’t believe you.”

“And I don’t care,” I hiss back. “It doesn’t matter what you believe or don’t believe, just that you help me kill this thing before it kills me!”

“Look,” Sam interrupts. “Maybe we should take this somewhere else? People are starting to stare.” He nods to the other tables and the curious stares our quiet but heated exchange has drawn.

“We can head back to my house,” I offer reluctantly. "The police finished with it yesterday."

“Where whatever got your mother can get us? I don’t think so.” Dean exchanges a look with Sam. “We’ll go back to our motel.”

Shrugging, I toss some money down and follow them outside. My car keys are already out and in my hand, but before I can unlock my car and make to follow, the brothers steer me towards theirs. “Sorry, we’ll bring you back to get your car later – it’s best if you come with us for now.”

“Sure.” It’s not like I’m about to argue with the men I’m relying on to save my life. I climb into the backseat of the car – the one I learned to drive in – and try not to wring my hands. “This is really strange,” I say, when neither of the brothers make to speak. “I mean, here I am, getting in the car with two strangers so that I have some chance of surviving a monster I didn’t even know existed until last night!” Not to mention I’ve been putting off the inevitable freak-out that comes with learning my entire world is based off of a _TV show_. “…Oh god, I think I might be losing my mind.”

The boys don’t respond and I spend the rest of the ride with my head buried in my hands.

* * *

 

**Super 8 Motel | Sam**

“Here, take a seat,” Sam says, leading Addison to one of the beds. “Dean and I are going to ask you a few questions so that we know what we’re looking for.”

She nods and sits down without protest. Sam fights the urge to reassure her. She looks as dazed as she’d been when she recounted how she’d killed one of the intruders. Still, first things first, “What did they look like?”

“Well,” she says with a frown, “Pretty normal actually. One was Caucasian and kind of portly, the other was Asian and really tall. The only thing that stood out was the fact that they were both really dirty, with matted hair and rumpled clothes. That’s all I really remember.”

“And you said they were flesh-eating?”

“Yeah, that’s what he said when he went after me.” Addison trembles a bit. “…And the tall one took a few b-bites of my mother when he killed her.”

“Right,” Sam grimaces. “Did anything else stand out to you? Anything odd?”

“Just the way the tall one threw my bed like it was nothing,” she says. “I don’t know any humans who could do it one-handed like that.”

Unfortunately, superhuman strength and the desire to feed on flesh doesn’t really narrow it down. The fact that they appear or have the ability to appear human helps a bit more, but not by much. Before Sam can ask his next question, Dean kicks off from the wall, seemingly done letting Sam take the lead.

“What did they say to you? Try and tell us word for word.”

“The one that went after me told me he was going to eat me.” Addison’s voice is just shy of inaudible. “He said he hadn’t had live flesh in years because he was too afraid John would hunt him down like his father. He said something about how our deaths would help him kill John. The other one, he-” she shudders. “He mostly just screamed death threats.”

“That helps,” Sam says, making sure to smile at her encouragingly. “Our dad kept a record of all his hunts. We can check his journal and see if we can find a matching entry.”

“Your… dad?”

“Yeah, I guess we forgot to mention it, but John was our father.” Suddenly, Addison looks like she’s swallowed a lemon. She opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, but ends up shaking her head instead.

Dean, ever the suspicious one, immediately pounces. “What? You got something to say?”

Ducking her head, Addison mumbles something in response.

“What was that?” Curious now, Sam leans in for her answer.

“I, um,” she sucks in a breath before continuing in a rush, “I’myourhalfsister.”

* * *

**Super 8 Motel | Addison**

 

“ _What?!”_

I cringe at the overlapping shouts, wondering if I should have just kept my mouth shut. The only reason I said anything was to avoid problems in the future. But if the angry look on Dean’s face is anything to go by, maybe I should be more worried about my immediate problems...

Then again, if the truth ever comes out – and knowing my luck, it most certainly will – it would look strange if I didn’t react to the “revelation” that I have brothers. My plan to omit my own connection to John Winchester had been reliant on the fact that they omit theirs. I’d naively thought they’d have the sense to be more cautious with their identities.

Dean reaches over and grabs my upper arm, yanking me to my feet. “Look, I don’t know what sick sort of game you’re playing at, but-”

“Never mind,” I cut him off quickly, suddenly remembering his tendency to ‘shoot first, ask questions later.’ “It’s not important. Forget I said anything.”

“No,” he says. “You’re going to explain yourself.”

I look over at Sam for help but he’s just staring at me expectantly, apparently just as eager for answers. “Fine,” I mutter. “My mom says- _said,_ ” I correct forcefully. “That John was my biological father. Twenty years ago, he was admitted to the hospital where my mom worked with a bunch of injuries he said he’d gotten in a hunting accident.” I shrug a little. “Nine months later…”

Dean makes a disgusted sound and releases me so that he can run his hand over his face. “I don’t believe this. He would never be so careless.”

Apparently, Sam is less sure of their father. “Did he know?” he asks.

“About me?” He nods in confirmation. “Not at first. He came through town when I was twelve and my mom told him about me then.”

Sam presses his lips together and nods, which sets his brother off. “Oh come on, Sam. You can’t tell me you believe this shit?!”

“It’s not that hard to believe, Dean. Dad wasn’t exactly celibate.”

“Hey,” I cut in. “Regardless of whether or not you believe I’m John’s kid – the bastard who killed my mom _does_. He’s still out there, probably hoping I’ll contact John so he can kill us both in one fell swoop.”

“But he’s already dead,” Sam points out.

“Yeah, but I don’t think our resident monster knows that. The other one was talking about using me and my mom to kill him, remember?”

“That actually works in our favor then,” he says. “Seeing as he’ll only be expecting one hunter.” He pauses. “That is, so long as his partner’s death didn’t convince him to cut and run.”

I shake my head. “Trust me, he was so angry that I don’t think he’ll be able to resist coming after me.”

Dean makes a sound not unlike a growl. “Can we get back on topic?”

We both turn to look at the older hunter. “I thought we finally _were_ on topic,” I mutter petulantly.

Sam sighs. “Look, Dean. We can worry about this after we kill the monster.”

Dean makes an explosive gesture with his hands. “For all we know she is the monster!” He glares at me. “Is that it, huh bitch? You think you can pull one over on us?”

“Dean!”

“…Don’t call me that.” Suddenly I’m trembling all over and it takes me a minute to understand why. _Damn memories._ I shove them down and take a deep breath. “Just don’t, okay? If you’re not interested in helping, I’ll go back to the police.”

I try to move towards the door, but Sam’s hand on my shoulder stops me. “Of course we’re going to help you,” he insists. “Right Dean?”

There’s a low grumble from the man followed by an exasperated sigh. “Only if she passes the tests.”

“Tests?” I ask.

A face full of water is my only answer.


End file.
